


Honour For Us All

by MisolineExplorer



Series: me making shameless destiel aus out of movies that should not be made into an au [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, Based on a Tumblr Post, Betrayal, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins (Supernatural), Castiel as Mulan, Closeted Dean Winchester, Conflict, Dean Winchester Needs a Hug, Dean Winchester as Shang, Disguised Castiel, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Gabriel as Mushu, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt Dean Winchester, Inspired by Mulan (1998), Internalized Homophobia, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Light Angst, Lucifer as Shan Yu, M/M, Mary Winchester was killed by an angel instead of a demon, Mulan AU, Sam Winchester as Kahn the horse, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Stranded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27165236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisolineExplorer/pseuds/MisolineExplorer
Summary: Inspired by a Tumblr PostCastiel Novak is a part-angel part-human being who lives in the village Pontiac, with his human brother, Jimmy.Ever since the past human versus angel war, Castiel had hidden his wings away from the public but when a certain accident exposes his appendages, he has been constantly shunned for it.Meanwhile, Jimmy is praised for fighting in the previous war but the battles have left him with a constant limp and unstable mindset.When the news of another human versus angel war arrives, however, and troops are being selected from villages from all over, Castiel is appalled to find out that Jimmy has signed up.Determined to prevent his brother from wasting his life, Castiel tightly fastened his wings to his back, put on Jimmy's armor and flees from his hometown.When Castiel meets General John Winchester and his son, Captain Dean Winchester, Castiel is instantly taken by his emerald eyes and muscular figure. But when the angels' troops takes them by surprise on the Eden's Gate mountain, Castiel finds himself stranded alone with the captain in the snowy terrain with his secret exposed.Follows the plot of Mulan closely w/ extra scenes
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Series: me making shameless destiel aus out of movies that should not be made into an au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2003305
Comments: 7
Kudos: 30





	1. Invasion

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my Destiel adaptation to Mulan (1998) and I hope you all will enjoy!
> 
> This fic will NOT be quote for quote to the movie and some improvision will occur. Also, John is still a horrible father in this.
> 
> Some changes will be noted;
> 
> ANGELS CANNOT ACTUALLY FLY. They can sure as hell glide for a long while if they find a place that's high enough or find a place where there's a lot of warm air but they cannot actually fly.
> 
> China is called 'Heavan' in this au. It's like Heaven but instead of an E at the end, it's an a. HeavAn. Pronounce it like you would with van. Hea-VAN
> 
> There is a slur word for angels and that's 'halo' or 'halos'. You'll hear it in phrases like "goddamn halos" or "bunch of halos"
> 
> The Emperess is Naomi and Lucifer is Shan Yu. It would make more sense for Lucifer to lead an army of demons but I'm skipping over that just for the plot.
> 
> Naomi and Metatron are both humans in this AU
> 
> Michael will be included in this fic to be one of Castiel's ancestors but he has NO relations with Lucifer
> 
> Mary Winchester was killed by an angel instead of a demon to intensify Dean's hatred for angels which will change later on, of course, due to Cas being part angel and all of that
> 
> While Mulan has several relatives, Castiel lives with only his brother and that's that.
> 
> Sam is the horse. Will he have any actual dialogue? No, but think of him as the pegasus in Hercules and he's super interactive
> 
> Will the cricket be included in this fic? Uh... No but that MIGHT change later on if I can find a way to fit him into the story without any confusing parts.
> 
> Do I know anything about the military outside of what's said directly about the movie and google searches? ABSOLUTELY NOT. If I miss any details or make a very wrong misconception, please let me know in the comments below and I'll try to make fit ;;

The air was cold.

Shivering.

To say that it was freezing would be a damn understatement. Limbs would go numb, frostbites were inevitable. And yet, guards paced back and forth, their swords and bows at their disposals. Their armor did nothing to protect them from the intense temperature and they knew it was only going to dip lower from there. But protecting the walls of Heavan was worth everything to them. Their families laid behind the line as well as their reputation and honor.

One guard thought it was foolish. Who would think to penetrate a wall this thick and tall? And lined with guards that stayed up nearly all day and night, ready to fight for their lives?

Lucifer.

That's who.

* * *

It was seconds after midnight when Lucifer struck.

Right when the full moon rose to its fullest extent, high and poised. It was ironic how that moon was also the same light source that allowed the guards to see at night and a signal for the angels' forces. Maybe the moon was part of Lucifer's intent, so the guards would recognize him as clear as day and fear would fill their eyes.

It was so peculiar how Lucifer always accompanied his angels' raids, how he was so susceptible to offenses. Of course, that was exactly what he was counting on. The troops would always fall for the parlor trick. They always underestimated him right until the last second where he would unravel his wings and expose them with all of his glory. There wasn't a single survivor who could the others about this strategy until the Last Battle of The Silver City.

Heavan soon switched their offense to defense after witnessing the event that transpired from the last war.

The wall was built shortly after.

Unbeknownst to them, Lucifer saw this as an invitation to start a war, challenging his great and mighty strength.

And on that very night, a war was started.

Roy was a guard that worked alone. Ever since the previous human-angel war, no guard could venture on their own, in risks of getting caught off guard, killed and therefore, creating an easy and swift entry point for any enemies. Roy thought that was, simply put, bullshit.

It was also worth mentioning that he was the same guard that argued that no one with a sane mind would dare attempt to scale a wall this high and strong.

And as expected, Roy was the first amongst many to expire that night.

He marched back and forth with a spear in hand, ready to attack anybody at will at this point in an attempt to stave off the drowsiness in his head and the aching in his feet. As he was close to the next watchtower, there was a loud and piercing cry, similar to a human scream. He jumped as a dark shadow swooped in and knocked the helmet off his forehead, making it tumble to the floor.

What the hell was that? Fear and paranoia spiked in Roy's body, the previously mentioned cold conditions and drowsiness not helping at all. He stumbled for a few moments, trying to detect where the thing was before noticing a shadow on the floor.

Roy gasped as he lifted his head up high and stared at the top of the watchtower, the source of the shadow.

A large vulture stood confidently on the spiked roof, its wings coated with a dark crimson color that was illuminated by the moon behind it. It unfurled its wings and let out a loud and ear-splitting shriek that seemed to echo in the empty air.

The next thing he knew, something hard clattered against the rocks that the walls were built upon. Roy turned swiftly and was met with surprise once he realized what the object was.

A hook that belonged to a grappling hook, attached to a rope that stretched all the way down to the bottom of the wall, obscured by the shadow of the wall and covered with pure and complete darkness.

What was once just a minor inconvenience soon turned into terror as Roy gripped his weapon tightly and shuddered.

Despite his instincts screaming at him to run away, Roy ventured forth and peeked over the edge of the wall. He was almost relieved to be met by silence until narrow shapes started to emerge from the shadow of the wall.

Waves after waves of grappling hooks flew swiftly up the wall and onto the platform, a symphony of cluttering heard from all over. Every single one of those hooks was wedged in between the raised ridges in the wall. Soft grunts were heard beneath the hooks and despite the darkness of the night, Roy could see that the ropes were being pulled on.

They were being invaded.

Roy didn't spare another second before taking several steps back then racing towards the nearest watchtower, where he knew there would be a sigil. Already, in the distance, he could see other sigils being lit up as well, creating beacons into the dark sky. They had been attacked as well.

He gasped as he watched cloaked figures pull themselves over the edge, their eyes glowing in the dark and weapons ready. He would bet anything that those were angels. He recognized the large appendages on their backs from anywhere.

Roy made a narrow dodge as one of the angels attempted to strike him with their wing, hitting the hard floor where he once was. He ran to the watchtower where he rushed up a ladder, which he barely made it all the way before it was swept under and cluttered to the ground.

Roy's chest heaved up and down as he struggled to catch his breath, his head feeling light as he raced for oxygen. There was a brief relief in which soon turned dark as the sound of wings fluttering came behind him. Roy spun around so quickly, his neck ached and there was a slight pulsing in his forehead.

But none of that matters because right in front of him stood Lucifer.

The ancient angel whose name has been told countless of times.

The Prince of Darkness, the Bearer of Light, Father of Lies, Tempter-

The list of names went on and on.

Roy's eyes lingered on the standing dark figure before slamming his fist on the sigil, causing an explosion of light that caused Roy to shield his eyes and he was even sure he saw Lucifer squint his eyes a little.

His own beacon of light soared into the skies and joined the many many other beams that shot up.

"Now," Roy shouted, glaring at Lucifer behind his fingers. "All of Heavan knows that you're he-" But before he could finish his sentence, he felt something pierce his armor and straight through his abdomen where most of his organs were. Roy's hand fell away from his face and now all he could see is Lucifer's face right in front of him.

The archangel had pale skin and angry red splotches that scattered across his face.

Roy had never seen a sight more terrifying in his life.

"That's the point, baby." Lucifer sneered, twisting his sword deeper into Roy's body before pulling it out in a swift motion.

The human fell to the ground, dead in a matter of second from the extensive blood loss.

* * *

The large door slammed shut behind John Winchester as he marched into the Palace, his boots staining the golden carpet with a dark muddy color that had a foul odor. If Naomi knew what was on his boot, she didn't comment on it.

Beside her, Metatron scowled loudly, eying the Winchester with a distasteful passion. Everybody knew about General Winchester and how arrogant and stubborn the old man was but even Metatron couldn't lie about how much of an astute strategist John was. If only the man can think straight with his head instead of his fists. The man wanted war and only war ever since the last one between them and the angels.

It was a bloody wonder how the man managed to score a wife who put up with his bullshit. If only she hadn't been wasted by an angel during the first ever human-angel war and spurred John on to a blind rage of proclaimed "justice".

As Winchester stormed in, carrying his helmet in his hand, two guards followed after him, under his leadership presumably. When they stopped several feet from the Empress' throne, John immediately kneeled on one knee while the two guards laid down completely, bowing down to the Empress.

"Your highness, the angels have made their way through the northern walls. Lucifer has been sighted." John started, the eagerness in his voice clear. He wanted to take charge, to command his own troops. "We will establish a perimeter around the Palace immedi-"

Naomi held up on hand, halting John immediately. "No, send your armies to protect my people." She stood up, raised her other hand, and pointed in the direction where the villages were. She knew this would irritate John but she could now allow the same events that took place in the last war. They had sent their strongest forces right to Lucifer and he demolished them. It was only by chance that his forces were too withered to defeat the last of Heavan's troops but the damage has already been dealt.

Hundreds had fallen in the crossfire between battles. They had barely three-fourths of the same troops they had now.

"Metatron?" Naomi glanced back at the stout man, who gripped his scribe tightly once he was called upon his name.

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"Send conscription notices throughout the entirety of Heavan. Leave no town untouched." She ordered. "Enlists as many new recruits as possible. We need numbers, fast."

The tension in the room grew as John stood up.

"Empress, believe me when I say that my forces can stop Lucifer and his army," The elder general argued. "You've seen how much damage they delivered in the previous war-"

"That is exactly the problem." Naomi countered. "We are trying to eliminate casualties and by going straight to him. We will increase that number exponentially. I won't take any chances, Winchester."

"A single grain of rice can tip the scale."


	2. Disastero

The village of Pontiac was quiet.

Quiet if you dismiss the constant grunting and movement of 22-year old Castiel. He danced back and forth in his living room, training last minute for the hardship ceremony, using a wooden stick to beat a rice bag that was suspended from the ceiling. It swayed back and forth with each hard whack of the stick.

It was only the crack of dawn and Castiel was already sweating, his limbs aching and arms feeling heavy. He felt like he could lay down and sleep for a century. He wiped his arm over his forehead and placed the stick down against the wall. He knew he shouldn't have waited until literally the last day to train for the hardship ceremony, but he had the whole farm look after ever since Jimmy got put out of commission from the last angel-human war.

The work wasn't that extreme but it took up a majority of his schedule and add to that the grating ache afterward, meaning that his body was incapable of making any hard or fast-paced movements.

Castiel wasn't ungrateful for his brother's commitment to their homes, however. He was proud that Jimmy was brave enough to go to war and head to head with the terrifying angels that terrorized the nearby villages, but the damage that was dealt to Jimmy after the war was a sight to behold.

Not only could he not bend below his waist, Jimmy had constant nightmares and paranoia that made it hard for him to sleep at night. He couldn't operate on the farm anymore but he made up for most of that by working in the sales department.

Castiel took a swig of water before going at the rice bag again, gripping the handle of the stick tightly and swinging with all of his might, striking the poor fabric sack. He dodged as it swung back at him, the rope that held it close to snapping.

As much as he had confidence in himself, he knew that his chances weren't going to be high regardless.

For starters? He had wings.

Large, heavy wings that gave him pain for the majority of his life. They were vast in length and dark in color, almost as dark as the midnight sky with a gradient of deep dark blue on the bottom.

But as beautiful as they were, that still didn't make Castiel hated them any less. They made him seem like an angel, although he truly wasn't one. At least not halfway.

His wings got nauseatingly hot easily, clothes were a huge pain to put on, they itched like crazy, they tracked up trash faster than a mare's tail, they attract bugs ( _especially_ mites), all sorts of small animals (squirrels were the worst)

Nobody knew how it happened but when he was born, there were two identical fleshy nubs on his back, right below where his shoulder blades were.

At first, the doctors dismissed it as overt swelling, but as Castiel grew more and more, it became more apparent what the nubs were once the feathers started to grow in.

For that reason alone, he was named after Cassiel, the Angel of Thursday, for it was the day that he was born in. While the people of Pontiac weren't so easy to accept the extra appendages, his mother accepted him gleefully.

His father didn't think the same, however, and never saw him as his own blood (but that never mattered since family doesn't end in blood, a quote given to him by his surrogate uncle, Robert Singer). He didn't want to believe that his son had some sort of heritage to the bloody halos, especially after the recent angel-human wars that had occurred earlier that decade.

Maybe that's why his father left them at such an early age. Castiel's aim wavered as he remembered the faint memory. Those weren't the only problems that his wings caused him, however.

Because they were so big and Heaven knows that the winds were strong in Pontiac, his wings would get caught up on the updraft, catapulting him across the street. Sure, it might be humorous for a small bit but after the seventh time? It's. Humiliating. And. Grating.

Castiel's hand clenched the twig in his hand tighter.

He would easily be pulled away in one direction and end up in the compost, which was exactly what happened last time. The event caused the entire village to laugh at him and it was only until the village blacksmith, Robert Singer, yelled at them that they stopped.

(He still remembered the hours he spent, washing the waste and stains out of his hair and skin, staring down at the cold show tile until the water finally ran clear)

His brother and Singer were the only ones in the whole village beside the animals who didn't mock him, except maybe the short person with a thick accent who hung around Singer but he still called Castiel a 'bloody halo' and teased the fledgling whenever he's around.

Damn Crowley.

It was troubling how much people never trusted him that well.

There were two troubles to his daily life.

The daily offenses and the nightly offenses.

During the day, it wasn't like they were loud or made defamatory claims but the response might as well be the same. It was the constant staring and the exaggerated attempts to _hide_ the fact that they were staring at him that got on his nerve.

The fact that they weren't just spitting insults at him and made an actual attempt to hide their distaste was tiresome as well. They've made it clear that he wasn't wanted so why try and sugar coat it for him? He wasn't a damn child.

It wasn't his fault that he was born with those large annoying wings and he didn't want to get discluded from the rest of the village because of them.

Then came the nightly offenses, when the sun sank underneath the mountains and the land darkened so that nobody could see anyone.

It started with rocks being thrown at their house and awful messages being scratched into the walls of their house and fences. Castiel tried to ignore it and he knew his brother did too but the first night the rock crashed through the window and splintered their doorframe so that the door couldn't shut close, Jimmy lost it.

He yelled outside the door, his voice loud and thundering, and the whole neighborhood became quiet. Castiel curled uptight that night and tucked his head in behind his arms in shame.

The threats against him increased tenfold when the next human-angel war came and went.

They saw him as an adversary and they treated him as such but today would change, Castiel was sure of it.

The Founding Ceremony was of tremendous importance in the Pontiac village as well as other villages across Heavan. Not only did it ensure that Castiel would have a successful life with a wife in the future, but it would make him fit for war, establishing him as a future soldier and warrant respect.

He remembered when he was still a young child, he saw Jimmy attend the ceremony and ever since then, he's been crowned as a hero.

Castiel wanted that. He wanted to be seen as a good person and he truly did believe that he was a good person.

Accomplishing the Founding Ceremony wouldn't protect him completely from the glances and stares but at least there wouldn't be any more nightly offenses.

With one particularly heavy swing, Castiel heard a small rip in the fabric of the rice sack as he hit it as hard as he could.

Shit.

Castiel took a scurrying step back as he watched the rice grains flow out of the hole like water out of an open facet. He grabbed a stool and reached up to the ceiling where he quickly untied the sack from the ceiling and watched as more rice spilled out of it once it plummeted to the ground.

Double shit.

He leaped down and positioned the bag up so that no more grains would spill out but by then, nearly half of its mass had gone out to the floor. This was going to be an absolute _pain_ to clean up. That is if he can do that _and_ make it to the ceremony on time.

As the morning bell rang loudly in the town center and woke the rest of Pontiac's residents, Castiel realized how late he was. He nearly slipped on the grains of rice as he sped outside to the porch.

He had to get his morning tasks done as fast as possible if he had any hopes of making it early to the hardship ceremony, after all, punctuality was one of the most important tests.

Castiel picked up a large bag of kernels and ran outside, where he passed his horse, Samuel. The stallion had been raised on a farm ever since it was a small foal.

Samuel neighed at Castiel when he moved towards the chicken pen, in which the young man simply waved in response. Castiel walked over to the feeder and tipped the bag forward, filling the tube up until it was all filled and loaded.

Speaking of loaded, he still had to grab his ceremonial sword from his room. He can't believe he didn't bring it down with him when he practiced!

He finished quickly and closed the bag, running back to his home. The young man raced up the steps and spotted the shining silver blade in the corner of his desk. He made a desperate grab for it then sped out. Thank goodness he remembered where it was instead of wasting any more time searching for it.

Castiel sped down the steps, his blade in hand. His head snapped upwards, however, when he heard Jimmy call his name. Loudly.

Loud was never a good thing for Castiel.

Jimmy was standing in the middle of the rice mess he made earlier, a furious look in his eyes. "Did you do this?" He asked, even though it was obvious that he and Castiel were the only people in the house. When Castiel nodded, Jimmy just shook his head with an irate look.

"Oh dear ancestors, please help us." The elder muttered under his breath with an exasperated sigh.

Castiel shed away from his brother, feeling shame fill him head to toe. He wanted Jimmy's support but he was messing up already.

"You should have been at the forge already! Bobby's been waiting for you for five minutes now." Jimmy continued to scold him, looking more stressed the more the seconds pass. "Do you have your ceremonial blade?"

"Yes-"

"Then go!"

* * *

Bobby was looking worse than the last time Castiel had seen him, which was only two days ago, but it was understandable since today marked a very special day in Castiel's life, as well as Pontiac's, and the boy in question was already late to the preparation.

The look on Bobby's face, however, only got worse when Castiel arrived, his sword swinging loosely and unguarded from his waist, his hair unkempt, and his entire attire a mess. Rufus swore that Bobby had turned deadly pale and another strand of hair turned white that instant.

"I'm here!" Castiel exclaimed loudly, sliding off Samuel's back and raising his arms out to the air. Bobby grumbled as he walked over to Castiel, grabbing his wrist tightly and pulled it down. "Put your damn hand down, boy, and come with me!" He snapped as he stepped into the forge with Castiel behind him and slammed the door after them.

"You expect me to work with this?" Bobby motioned towards Castiel's disheveled state. He glanced at the blade around his waist before snatching it from the poorly made holster.

"If you wanted to scratch this then you might as well throw it against a wall!" The blacksmith snapped, pressing his fingers against the sides of his nose, already feeling a migraine coming. "I told you to keep your scabbard with you."

Castiel shuffled sheepishly in the middle of the forge. "About that..."

"You lost it, haven't you?"

"...Perhaps."

"For Heaven's sake-" Bobby opened up a series of drawers before grabbing a spare scabbard. "Be glad that I have spares. Come on, I'll get you fixed up." He slid the blade into the scabbard but not after sharpening the dull surface until it could be used as a mirror. 

Today was going to be a difficult day and this would be proof of that.

When Bobby was done, Castiel couldn't breathe. The armor was weighing him down so much and was severely uncomfortable, he'd be better in a skunk dress. It ached the most where the plates of the armor were pressed right up against his wings the most.

It was like balancing anvils on his body and as extreme as that sounded, it was exactly how Castiel felt. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if he took off his helmet or boots. Would that be too much of a problem? Surely not, right?

Sure, the armor was made to hide his wings but that doesn't mean the most comfortable option. It wasn't like Castiel could even refuse. They were on a short time crunch and he felt bad for asking Bobby to make another suit when this one took so much time.

Despite all of that weight, Castiel found himself proudly walking down the road, in line with all the other candidates for the ceremony. He could feel the townspeople staring at him and whispers being passed around.

"Is that James or the halo?"

"Poor soul, it must be a furnace in there!" (Whoever said that, they were very accurate. It _was_ like a furnace in the suit)

"I can't see the wing, can you see the wing?"

He tried to ignore the sidelining comments but they swarmed around him like obnoxious gnats. The more as they trotted down the alley, the more Castiel's confidence started to dwindle.

When the five candidates, including himself, arrived in front of the altar house, they kneeled down on one knee and planted their swords on the ground.

A few moments later, a tall yet feeble man with a long and luscious beard, the grandmaster, bursted through the front doors. He had a writing board in one hand and a stern expression on his face.

He looked extremely irritated to have to be met with the sudden crowd outside his house at this time of the day, judging by his stern eyebrows and that dark look in his eyes.

"Castiel Novak!" He called out loudly.

The people around the called young man gasped in surprise, still expecting Jimmy to be in the suit, despite the fact that Jimmy had already completed the ceremony many years earlier. This fact made Castiel a little depressed, knowing that people were more fond of his brother than him.

When the man called out his name, Castiel stood up in a hurry, raising his hand to the sky but knocking his sword over, causing it to clatter to the floor loudly.

The man frowned deeply and marked the board with an 'X'.

"Needs better discipline," He mutters under his breath.

Castiel winced.

Bobby frowned as he watched from afar. He could only wish the best for Castiel but he knew that that hope would soon shrivel up and die.

"Come with me." The grandmaster turned and retreated back into his domain. "Shut the door on your way in."

Castiel nodded before standing up, reaching down and scooping his blade back into his holster before racing after the grandmaster. He clicked the door shut behind them as he walked inside, looking around the estate.

He had only seen glimpses of this place when Jimmy had his own turn with the ceremony and he peered in through the doors when they opened. So to see the place in its full glory and being able to admire it was transfixing. It's still as incredible as he last recalled.

The place was luxurious, decorated with more statues than Castiel ever seen in his life. They were all aligned in a spiral, facing the center, and lined from shortest to highest. The shortest statue went just barely above Castiel's shoulders and the largest one stretched up to the ceiling where they reached the pillars that held up the ceiling.

Walls and ceiling were heavily decorated with beautiful artwork and paintings that were practically worth dying for. And in the middle of the roof hung a large crystal chandelier, hanging by a chain.

On the floor in the middle of the room were two tightly woven blue mats, both of them facing towards each other.

"Sit." The grandmaster commanded as he walked to one of the mats, kneeling down on the furthest one from the entrance. Castiel glanced down awkwardly at the other rug before slowly sliding on top of it and crossing his leg, his armor clinking together loudly and uncomfortably.

The grandmaster's head leaned to the side and squinted at him, a frown on his lips. He marked another 'X' on the chart. "Poor position. Not good for presentation." He scowls.

Castiel attempted to tell him that no, it wasn't him, it was the hulking mess of an armor he was wearing but it was no use, the grandmaster had already moved on.

"State the Ten Commandments." The grandmaster adjures, crossing his arms in an unimpressed manner. Castiel nodded. Okay, this was an easy enough task. He began speaking confidently, having memorized it from memory even prior to the ceremony.

"Thou shalt have no gods before me." Castiel started, closing his eyes in concentration. "Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain-"

Apparently, he did something wrong because the grandmaster was already waving his hand at him, motioning for him to stop, a disapproving expression on his face. "Too much mumbling." The grandmaster spoke aloud as he jotted the words into his scribing board. Castiel frowned.

Mumbling? He spoke those words loud and clear. Personally, he thought he was doing fine. More than fine honestly.

"Show me your ceremonial blade." The grandmaster commanded next, lowering the scribing board onto his lap. Castiel perked up as his hand went flying to his waist, gripping his sword.

He hoped that he didn't fail this task at least. Slowly he drew his broadsword from his holster, but before he could pull out all the way, something got caught on the edge, preventing a swift removal.

Did he not smooth it enough?

Castiel frowned as he gave it a few more tugs. It was still stuck.

"What is the hold up for?" The grandmaster frowned as he leaned in, observing the sword. "I've got four more other people out there. We don't have all day." He scowls. Castiel gave an embarrassed chuckle and held up one finger before continuing to pull on his sword, using both hands this time.

He heard a slight tearing sound but didn't have any time to react before swinging his sword outward, slicing not only the sheath but the grandmasters beard and nearly the tip of his nose.

Castiel gasped loudly as he dropped the sword.

The elder man pulled back sharply with his hand clasped over his mouth, feeling the sliced bristles of his precious beard. The grandmaster stared at him in shock for a few seconds before all hell broke loose.

The grandmaster let out a large roar, lunging at the angel.

"How _dare_ you, you filthy _halo-_ " The grandmaster grabbed his own sword from his waist, pulling it out effortlessly. Castiel got onto his feet with a panicked shriek, scrambling for his weapon. He managed to duck just in time as the elder swung the blade over his head.

Cas unstrapped his heavy armor ( _finally-)_ and spread his wings to their full span. He had a moment of relief, having them held back for so long, but it was short-lived when the grandmaster leaped at him. He shallowly avoided another strike, leaving a trail of blue and black feathers behind him as he ran for his life.

In all the ways he expected the ceremony to go, this was not one of them.

He had already begun to form a plan in his head. He swerved towards the medium-sized statues in the hopes of getting the grandmaster to trip and knock himself down onto his back where Castiel could easily disarm him and make a speedy getaway.

But as he raced towards the statue and slipped past the sides, the grandmaster, instead of tripping like he planned, _pushed_ past it, making it topple onto a slightly larger statue, which, in turn, fell and knocked over an even larger statue.

What followed suit was a chain of statues, all knocking over another statue that was bigger than the previous.

Castiel stopped running and stared in mortification as he watched the events unfold right in front of him.

The grandmaster stopped running as well, watching as his precious statues began to fall on top of each other like a perfect sadistic line of dominos.

Eventually, the biggest statue in the room tipped over, leaning on the ivory white pillar that supported the ceiling and stayed there.

For the briefest moment, Castiel dared to let out a sigh of relief, glad that the moment was over.

Until he heard a very distinct creak. Then more creaking.

There was a very loud snap at the base as the pillar gave weight, crashing to the floor and causing everything in a five-foot radius to fly up in the air. The ground shook like there was a small earthquake pounding through Pontiac.

And just when Castiel thought it was over, a layer of dust sprinkled on the grandmaster's hair. Castiel looked up, right in time to see the chandler drop from the ceiling and land dead-on top of the grandmaster, sending clouds of dust into the air.

Outside, Bobby stood there, worried for his protege. The sounds that he heard inside the residence didn't give him much hope. Even worse was the chattering and whispering by the people standing beside him.

Suddenly, the door bursted open.

Castiel _flew_ through the entrance, his clothes in shambles and face panicked. He crash-landed right at Bobby's feet then got up quickly, brushing himself off.

Through the swaying open doors walked out the grandmaster, small scratches on his face and looking just as bad as Castiel, except his expression was furious. His eyebrows dipped deep into his face and his chest heaving up and down. His hands clenched by his sides tightly and his body was absolutely quaking.

"You," The grandmaster thundered, making his way down the steps and towards Castiel. "You shall _never_ be a warrior and never shall you be accepted at the Gates of Heaven ever!" He loudly proclaimed, his voice so ferocious that Castiel would have faced a tiger or a large boar instead.

Castiel lowered his wings in submission and he heard Bobby and his brother beside him draw out their swords slowly as the grandmaster stepped up to his face. "You are a disgrace to the name of Heavan. Shall you ever attempt to a step forward in honor, your spirit shall only drag you three steps back!" He shouted.

Suddenly, Castiel was knocked back and there was a blinding pain blooming from his cheek, bringing tears to his eyes. Slowly, Castiel's hand rose and brushed against his cheek, whimpering at the burning sensation he felt. Did the grandmaster really just slap him?

"Your mother should have abandoned you the moment she saw those wretched black feathers. No wonder she-" The elder man was cut off as a rotten tomato was splattered against the side of his face, pulp staining his clothes and slowly sliding down underneath the layers.

When Castiel looked up, he spotted a round man in a pair of black and ruby red robes on the roof of a nearby store. He was laughing boisterously to himself as he prepared another rotten fruit to throw from a crate.

Damn Crowley, but that doesn't mean that Castiel was grateful for him.

As the blunt man threw another expertly thrown item at the grandmaster, Castiel took the distraction to slip away from the elder man's rage. He pushed past the crowd of people and to the nearby stand where Samuel was being tied. He heard Jimmy and Bobby call his name behind him but he ignored them.

"Get me away," Castiel whispered to Samuel as he climbed on top of the stallion and squeezed his heels around the saddle. He pulled lightly on the reins then sped through the town square gates, leaving everyone behind in the dust

Tears blurred Castiel's vision as he buried his face in Samuel's long mane. He allowed the horse to lead them back home, being too exhausted to handle the mess of the day that today was.

As they arrived in front of Castiel's house, he slid off of Samuel's back and trudged inside of the house, too tired to do anything else. He spotted the messily placed away rice bag from that morning as well as the wooden stick that Castiel had used as a brief sword.

No amount of training or praying could fix what Castiel had broken.

He proceeded to his bedroom where he collapsed on the bed, too tired to take off his tattered clothes, and curled up tightly, unfurling his wing for the first time that day. He covered his body with the large blanket of feathers, holding his head in between his arms.

Would it be worth it if he sliced off his own wings? He had definitely thought about it in the past but he could never truly go through with it. But as his future seemed more and more bleak, the option of self-destruction looked wasn't that bad.

Castiel turned in his bed and reached for the framed picture of his mother and father, the only image he had of them. He couldn't remember them when he was an infant but at least he could see them now. He wondered what they would think of him if they were here right now.

Probably terribly disappointed in him, even his lovable mother.

He didn't know how long he stayed awake but when he came to, the sun was rising and the house was empty.


	3. Terminal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched the live-action version of Mulan and it was horrible but if there's one good thing that comes out of it, I'm gay for Xianniang, that and it is an AMAZING reference for this fic-

The village of Pontiac was quiet.

When Castiel woke up, he found that his throat was parched and that his entire left arm was aching from being slept on the entire night.

Dazed, he sat up and rubbed at his eyes but regretted moving when his arm lit aflame with numbing sensations.

Castiel froze, immediately lying back down and pressing his arm firmly against the mattress, waiting for the agonizing moment to pass.

Slowly counting to ten, he rose from the bed, his head now feeling like a bag of sand, but at least his arm didn't feel like it was on fire.

But as if that wasn't enough, faint memories of yesterday's events unfolded and came to light. The disasters that _he_ caused.

The statues- The ceremony- Oh _heaven_ -

Castiel felt sick. He never wanted to get up from his bed ever again. Just let him wallow alone in misery.

The Grandmaster was right. He _is_ a disgrace and he will never bring his family honor.

But after what seemed like an hour or two, he noticed something.

That the house was unusually quiet. At this time, he would hear pans and bowls being moved around as Jimmy was cooking breakfast or the floorboards creak when he's making his way around the house.

"Jimmy?" Castiel called out slowly. Silence was the only thing that bounced back at him, aside from Samuel's repeated calls from the yard. (Which was strange, Samuel usually barely made any noise.)

Maybe his brother was so upset at him for screwing up the ceremony that he was using silent treatment against him.

But he wouldn't use silence as a solution. To him, that was the worst way to resolve an issue.

Castiel slipped out of his bed, his left side still sore but slowly getting better.

He peeked his head out of the doorway and glanced down the hallway, trying to look for his older brother. "Jimmy?" He called out again.

The living room was empty. The kitchen had no sight of Jimmy either but there was evidence that he had been there earlier.

On the counter was a plate with crumbs on it as well as a glass with leftover milk coating the insides. It had been recent, seeing how the milk hadn't drained to the bottom yet.

Castiel looked outside the window and true to his suspicions, his older sibling was there, sitting on the bench next to the chicken coop.

In one hand, he held a bag of grains, which he loosely grabbed a handful of and tossed it out to the chickens below.

He seemed to be having a conversation with Samuel, who was rearing his head and weighing loudly.

Oh, so that's why Samuel was so loud this morning.

The scene was calm and collected. Castiel didn't belong at all. He was a hurricane of calamity that would soon need to be released. He was a splatter of violent red in a sea of blue.

He didn't know how long he was standing there but it was enough for Jimmy to notice. His attention turned to the real world when the elder called out his name.

"Cas."

Castiel lifted his head and locked eyes with Jimmy. His chest constricted. He didn't want to be met with shame and disappointment, something that he already sunk himself deep into.

But ignoring his brother would only go so far.

He stiffened before he made his way out of the house, stepping down the porched stairs. Castiel walked up to Jimmy and slumped down beside him, or rather, as far away from him as possible, for he was sitting so close to the edge that it would only take a light shove for him to fall off.

Samuel seemed to sense his discomfort because the next thing the horse did was poke his huge long face in and nudged Castiel so that his body was more balanced on the bench than leaning off the plank.

Jimmy sighed from the opposite side.

For a moment, Castiel prepared for himself to get berated at, maybe a little roughhousing. After all, it was what he deserved after the utter shitshow that went down. By completing the ceremony, it would ensure that they would be respected but now, he just turned them into the town's greatest embarrassment.

But instead of resentment from his brother-

"Castiel, you've heard of the story about the ugly duckling, correct?" Jimmy asked.

The half-angel gawked at his older brother in slight surprise. He hadn't expected him to ask such a peculiar question.

Of course, he knew the tale of the ugly duckling, as it was one of the most popular children's stories.

"Of course." Castiel nodded.

"It's about a whole nest of ducklings. But one of them is different." Jimmy continued. "He has a black beak and his feathers are a different color. And it's because of them that he's hated by the other ducklings."

Castiel has a feeling of the direction that Jimmy is going in but he allows him to talk anyway.

"But he grows up to be this _beautiful_ swan. And he's much more beautiful than all the other grown-up ducks in his nest." Jimmy raises his hand in emphasis, a certain light in his eyes that Castiel has only seen on rare occasions.

"Swans and ducks are different species, you do realize that?" Castiel raises an eyebrow.

"And so are humans and angels," Jimmy answered. There was that metaphor that Castiel was looking for.

While it would have been logical to argue that no, humans and angels aren't different species, they are different _beings_.

Humans are made out of meat and bones while angels were made out of human-shaped beings of light. However, Cas' entire being would protest to that.

Plus, he didn't want to crush Jimmy's (although shitty) attempt to cheer him up. He appreciated what his brother did for him and he respected it.

"What's this lesson you're trying to teach me anyway?" Castiel jeers, trying to light up the mood. "That I shouldn't be judged for my wings? Because newsflash, I already am and nothing is going to change that-"

"Actually," Jimmy protested. "I was going to say that the 'lesson' or moral was that even with all of those hateful comments about you, you're still going to emerge out beautiful and amazing as ever." He leans back.

He reaches back down to the sack of grain and loosely tosses a handful of seeds out onto the floor. The chickens sped over to them in a flurry of feathers and beaks.

Castiel sighed. It wasn't like him to think of the future much. He never put much thought about his future, in fears of getting over his head.

He preferred to focus more on the present and what's happening right now. At least he can do something about that.

Suddenly, there was a set of loud drums.

_THUMP. TU-THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. TU-THUMP-_

The sounds were coming from the gates of Pontiac, where the entrance was. Jimmy lifted his head instantly, his eyes widening.

He looked alert and vigilant, which was never a good sign for a soldier.

"Jimmy?" Castiel questioned as the older sibling got up from the bench and ran past him with incredible speed. Even after all of those years and war battles, he was still swift as an arrow.

As Castiel raced after him, questions on the tip of his tongue, he could see large red and yellow flags raised from the entrance, presenting Heavan's symbol of equality and divinity.

Imperial messengers.

His heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach as he watched the events about to unfold.

A round man in a blue and silver robe rode to the front of the two flanking soldiers, presenting himself as the leader of the unit. He had a bushy beard and a face that was genuinely so _punchable_.

Castiel blamed it on the pushy round cheeks and deep shadows above his beady eyes and corners of his mouth.

"Dear citizens of Pontiac!" The man in the blue robe announces loudly, pulling out a tablet and reading off it. "We bring a message to you from the Empress of Heavan; the Angels have invaded Heavan!"

Several gasps surrounded them. Castiel spotted a few people even turning towards him and giving him a twisted look, complete with a crooked sneer.

Despite the multiple times that Castiel had denounced himself from Lucifer's army, there was always a patch of people who saw it the other way around.

"Damnit, Metatron." He heard Jimmy grumble beside him. He could tell by the tone of his voice that he was very aware of the people looking their way.

The man in the blue robe, Metatron presumably, pulled out another tablet and held it out. "By orders from the Empress, one man from every family must serve in the army."

Then, he began reading from the tablet, spilling one name after another. One of the soldiers standing by Metatron's side pulled out a scroll from his satchel and held it out.

Anticipation pulled at Castiel's chest.

"The Rayne family!"

A slightly elder man stepped up to the soldier holding the scroll and took it from his awaiting hands, exchanging a brief nod. The soldier reached into his bag and pulled out another scroll.

"The Parkre family!"

A younger man stepped up this time. He glanced back at his father before taking the scroll from the soldier's hand, holding the roll of paper in his palm firmly.

"The Novak family!"

"No!"

It took a moment for him to realize that the resounding shout came from his lips. Immediately after doing so, Castiel clamped his hands over his mouth.

"What did you just say?" Metatron approached the young half-angel, yanking on his steed's reins sharply. Then, his eyes landed on Castiel's dark wings and they narrowed like as if he had smelled something foul. "You're that _halo_." He spat out in open disgust.

His horse kicked up a mini dust cloud like it was imagining Castiel underneath its hooves. "I think it would be in your best interest to shut your mouth."

Jimmy turned to Castiel and gave him a look that made him want the ground to just open up underneath him and swallow him up whole. "I'm ready to fight for Heavan," Jimmy announced, reaching for the scroll in the soldier's hand.

"Jimmy, please. You can't-" Castiel tried to beg but was met with Jimmy's cold look and Metatron intercepting in front of him. "You need to learn your place, you winged rat." Metatron scowled, gripping the horse reins tightly. "You think you're like the rest of us but you can never act like us."

"I can't wait for the day that you betray our backs and we get the chance to carve out your ribs." He added discreetly, lowering his voice.

Castiel was stunned. He'd never been told this before in his life, especially from someone in the high council.

He was even more stunned when Jimmy turned to him with a cold expression then walked past him, the scroll clenched tightly in his hand.

"You disappoint me."

That was the final straw that broke the camel's back. In that one moment, Castiel's world came crashing down. No matter what, his brother was always there for him and he looked up to Jimmy. So when those three words came out, Castiel barely held in a sob.

He could hear the other townspeople around them started to laugh. Embarrassed and mortified, he ran back inside his house. He barely heard Metatron's mocking shouts chasing after him over the static in his head.

Castiel couldn't breathe. He crashed against the wall of his house, breathing in and out feverishly. His vision began to blur right in front of him as more and more tears cascaded down his face.

There, on the cold hard floor, he curled up tightly, shaking as he wept. It has been a long time since he had felt this way. He was overwhelmed. He wasn't ready for his brother to go off into another war and sacrifice himself.

What happened to the brother that he knew?

* * *

Dinner was quiet.

There seemed to be a lot of that going around these days. Silence. Yet, it seemed so _loud_.

It's amazing with as little to no words, it could carry so many messages and atmosphere. With this instance, it was thick, bubbling with tension, just barely ready to explode.

And explode it did.

It was a simple dinner, steamed vegetables to the side along with noodles with sauce. Castiel and Jimmy sat down on opposite sides as always.

Castiel looked up at Jimmy. He had formed this conversation in his head so many times and the outcomes were always different every time. Something would always change, maybe the wrong or right words. Too long sentences or short enough to be easily misinterpreted.

He glanced outside to the window where it was raining heavily. He couldn't imagine Jimmy out there, wearing his suit of armor and sword by his side. His brother would be miserable out there.

Castiel inhaled deeply for a moment-

-then lifted his glass and slammed it down on the table so forcefully that it nearly broke.

"You shouldn't have to go and fight. You already fought in the last war!" He snapped, letting all of that frustration and fury pour out of him.

He could tell that Jimmy was surprised and he was surprised at himself too. It was rare for him to get this fed up and angry over something, especially if it meant for the good of their nation, but if it involved his brother then was there even a chance that he _wasn't_ going to get zealous?

"Castiel," Jimmy warned.

"There's plenty of other people to fight in the war! Why do _you_ have to go?!" Castiel didn't care if he was acting bratty. Jimmy was his only family and he wasn't going to let him get killed in a war that he had no chance of survival in from the start.

Jimmy stood up, slamming his fists into the table. Castiel hadn't seen him act this way before. He'd only see Jimmy express true anger only a few times so seeing him this was nearly enough for him to back down.

But he couldn't. Not when his brother's life was on the line.

"It's my role in life to serve and protect my home!"

"So it's your role in life to _die?!_ "

"I will gladly die if it means providing my services as a soldier."

"Jimmy-" Castiel protested but Jimmy cut him off sharply.

"I know where my heritage stands. When will you?" Jimmy spat out. Castiel scooted back in his seat swiftly, appalled that his older brother would say such a thing to him.

No, this can't be.

Castiel stares at Jimmy for a moment before spinning around. He sped out of the house, not caring if his bare feet scratched against the rough rocky path. His appetite dwindled faster than a festering forest fire. In fact, he felt like he might damn well puke.

The wind roared and rain thundered around him as he ran to the family shrine. He climbed up the ancient statue of the great Archangel of the Lord and wept at its feet, his wings bending to form a roof above his head.

He didn't know how long he stayed there but it was long enough that the lights inside of the house shut off and that he was bound to catch a cold in the freezing rain 

Why didn't Jimmy come after him? Did Castiel really not matter that much to him? Jimmy was the older brother, he was supposed to look after him.

No, he wasn't going to let Jimmy's life come to an end like this. He was going to do something about it once and for all.

For all his life, Jimmy had protected him, and now he was going to do the same for his older brother.

* * *

Once he was confident that his older sibling was sleeping, Castiel snuck into the armory. He searched for the registration scroll on the shelves before picking it up, quickly skimming through the paragraphs to find the location of the camp.

The Kansas Plateau. Perfect.

Fortunately, the form had already been signed and completed. At least that wouldn't be a problem, Castiel thought as he stuffed the scroll in his pocket.

He walked over to the armor rack and gazed down at the armor. It would be a little large for him but that wouldn't be much of a problem. His wings... however.

As Castiel has discovered in the past, it wasn't exactly a good idea to shave his feathers. He had once accidentally sliced a blood feather while trying to shorten his wings, and not only did it take nearly a month to recover, he was advised to never do it again. But it was the necessary thing to do. Otherwise, he would be executed upon arrival at the camp.

Kneeling, he lifted up the blade of Jimmy's sword up against his wings and began slicing into the dark. Appearance-wise, Castiel wasn't too worried about his wings. He wasn't too attached to them and he wasn't going to have much use for them in the war, unless he wanted to expose himself, which he was sure would lead to an immediate death sentence.

That, he wasn't too eager about.

When the last of the primary and secondary feathers fell to the ground, Castiel tucked his wings close to his back and began tying them down using a spool of twine. It was slightly uncomfortable to feel the strings constrict around his muscles, but it wasn't bad, to say.

Soon enough, he'll forget about it. Surely.

Rising up to his feet, Castiel slipped on his brother's armor, using the size difference to his advantage in order to tuck the wings in comfortably. Or at least the most comfortable he could manage with his wings in such a position. He turned and glanced at himself in the mirror and-

Woah.

He really did look like his brother. He remembered when Bobby called them indistinguishable when they were younger, excluding the wings of course. Now staring at himself, he could see where Bobby was making his point from.

Aside from-

Wait.

Castiel reached up and folded his hair to the side.

Perfect.

He took his sword and scroll with him downstairs to the kitchen where he prepared rations for the ride to the camp, seeing how he didn't eat dinner. It would be a long journey and he would need the energy.

At last, he would be able to save his brother.

Once he made sure that his brother was still fast asleep, Castiel stepped outside the house and crept to the stables. Samuel laid there on the floor, his tail whipping back and forth in his sleep, but when Castiel opened the stable gates, he was up in a flash.

Samuel climbed on to his limbs and made a series of loud noises, rearing his head back and neighing loudly, loud enough that someone was bound to notice if it went too long.

Castiel widened his eyes and reached forward, latching onto Samuel's reins and shushing the horse.

"Shhh! It's me, Castiel." He pointed and motioned to himself. Samuel stopped making noises at once but it didn't help his stiff posture. Castiel bit his lip, remembering what he had to do.

He turned to the old shack at the back of the barn and flung it open, searching for the old saddle that Jimmy had used for the previous war. Normally, Castiel would ride Samuel bare but it would seem more official to the soldiers at the camp.

After a minute of searching, Castiel finally found it and mounted it on top of Samuel, who grunted at the abrupt weight and tried to shrug it off. "Sorry, boy," Castiel whispered as he wrapped the cord around his stomach.

Castiel strapped the saddle to Samuel's back, using what he remembered from watching Jimmy's own setup to apply it successfully. Eventually, he got it through and the saddle stayed on securely. Castiel lit up with success and a surge of adrenaline shot through him.

His plan was working. His plan was really going through.

"Let's go, Sammy," Castiel whispered into his horses' ear before climbing up the side of the seat. He squeezed his thighs around Samuel's middle, urging him to go forward. Samuel threw his head back and kicked his feet into the air before charging out of the stables and out of the farm.

Castiel ducks his head and pressed his face into Samuel's mane as he rode the steed.

He was ready.

As they made it past the Pontiac gates, a man in black and red robes sat up on the roof of his house and frowned deeply. "Oh feathers, what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

* * *

Bobby slammed his fist into the already-ruined door of the Novak estate. It was still the dead of night, which explained Jimmy piss-poured expression when he emerged from behind the door. His expression didn't lighten up when he saw Bobby, in fact, it worsened.

"What is-"

"Castiel is gone, now let me in you rotten scrap," Bobby grunted, pushing past Jimmy and trudging inside of the house.

Jimmy's mouth swung agape. "Castiel is- what? That can't be." He closed the door behind him and rushed upstairs. "Castiel?" He called out but no response came back to him. Jimmy stepped into his brother's room and froze. The room was untouched.

Fuck.

His little brother didn't come back from the yard. _He should have gone after him._

Jimmy turned around and was about to charge outside when Bobby grabbed his shoulder and held him back.

"Don't bother, he's long gone by now." Bobby waved his hand. "Crowley saw him charging outside on Sammy and your armor on him."

"My armor?" Jimmy froze. No, this can't be.

Castiel couldn't be that _foolish to-_

Jimmy took off, dashing for the armory. He stopped at the doorway when he saw the sliced feathers on the floor. His chest seized and he fell to the floor, just barely faceplanting onto the floor, thanks to Bobby catching the man.

"No..." Jimmy whispered, tears filling his eyes. Bobby let go of the older brother's arm and scowled. "What the hell did you do?" He said, crossing his arms. "Haven't seen your brother this upset to just run off."

Jimmy shook his head. He got onto his feet and walked over to the shelves where he searched for the registration form. When the scroll didn't appear, Jimmy pulled away from the shelves like he was burned. "He's going to the military camps."

Bobby gasped. "He's what? That idiot is going to get himself killed! You need to go after him!" He motioned furiously at the door.

Jimmy shook his head. "I can't. if I reveal him, he _will_ be killed."

The older sibling lowered his head to the floor, kneeled, and closed his eyes. "Dear Hosts of Heaven, I pray to thee that you are listening," he whispers. "For the life of my brother lies in your hands. I ask you to please, _please_ ," his voice broke midway through. "Protect my youngest brother. He means only to protect me, my family, and this kingdom, so please, send your holiest angels to protect _him_."

Somewhere in the clouds, a hundredth eye blinked open.


End file.
